Surrender is My New Religion
by InsanityisReality
Summary: He was like a dark, wrathful god. No-not a god... The devil. Rated M for explicit sexual content
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Warning

Warnings: sexual content, gore, non-con scenes

Author's note at the end

….

His hands were warm, calloused, strong.

Ridiculously strong.

Yet somehow, those hands were also incredibly gentle as they stroked her. They traveled experimentally along her jean-clad legs, and amazement filled her at the sight of her thigh in his hand. His fingers stretched all the way around her meat to touch at the tips, her heart sped up. Then, without any warning those same rough fingers squeezed just the tiniest bit. She fought a breath that tried to escape, knowing it would come out quick and high pitched. It would sound like a shriek of pleasure, something a lover does when surprised. She didn't want him to hear that. Instead her teeth dug deep into her lip, trying to forget the way those fingers ran along the inside of her thighs, the way his hot palm felt as he explored her stomach. She tried not to stare. She wanted to forget.

The trails of blood had long since dried, crusting all along her brow and down her back. And those hands, the ones caressing her clumsily, tenderly, she could feel the way they dusted off the flakes.

It was freezing within the chamber, and wet. Her clothes were soaked through with sweat and the puddles of the hard ground. She was on her back, one leg chained to a large post. Her hands were bound by thick rope above her head attached to some kind of workbench and she didn't dare move them from the place he had forcefully shoved them before he began to…

She swallowed heavily.

She was mostly fine, the blood that trailed down her shirt and pants wasn't hers, but the cut to her forehead was most definitely her own. He'd done it, actually, as she went to grab at his junk in a last ditch effort of desperation, and he'd taken his big sword thing, clocking her on the side of the head. Guess he wasn't too thrilled with having his 'man parts' grabbed.

She knew him- or at least knew of him. He was the warning, the reason every local had all but forbidden them from entering the lake's nearby campsite. The nightmare of Crystal Lake. The man in the mask.

Jason Voorhees.

They had laughed it off. Her boyfriend Marc had claimed at one point that her eating habits were the scariest thing they would ever encounter in those woods. Everyone had agreed. Everyone had ignored the warnings.

And now they were all dead.

Everyone but her, it seemed, though she couldn't fathom as to why that was. By the time the first two suddenly went missing- _Rusty had tugged Natasha to him, she had giggled when he'd whispered something in her ear and let herself be pulled further away into the woods_ \- everything had already gone downhill. First it was Rusty and his whore. Then later on when everyone else had the feeling midnight sex in the woods didn't take up to two hours, Blake's body was found decapitated by his cabin. Then it was Crystal and Amanda, both found with their abdomens severed nearly in half.

Marc and Justin had acted quickly, one grabbing the shotgun someone had thankfully thought to bring along, and the other a large hunting knife. Marc had told her to run to the van, maybe they could hold this guy off long enough for her to reach town and tell the police.

So she ran.

Her discovery of the van that failed to start- _and come to think of it that huge gouge in the hood was probably a solid clue as to what was wrong with it_ \- came just as a body crashed into the passenger's side door with enough force to shatter the window on impact. She'd let out a scream, tumbling in a heap of frantic kicking limbs out of the van and setting off in a dead run across the campsite.

She passed one cabin, two, and was almost to the lake when she saw Marc.

Or, to be more specific, what was left of him.

It must have only taken about half an hour, maybe a bit more if you didn't count the time in between the first two leaving, for him to be able to obliterate their entire party. The last two he took care of in a matter of minutes. That was no easy feat. Justin and Marc had played football in high school, and both still hit the gym from time to time. Neither one was a pushover, and both had been armed.

A tremble ripped through her.

A gruff sound brought her back away from one nightmare, only to throw her into the current one, and once again she focused on the beast of a man kneeling over her. He was yanking on her shirt, ripping at the nearly see-through fabric like paper. She was just now realising that her pants were gone. Sucking in a panicked breath, she began to thrash her legs, kicking at his sides violently. He froze, as she rammed her knees into him she could feel his muscles constrict, and suddenly she gasped in pain from how hard he became. His wall of muscles becoming solid as brick. A large hand, hot and sweaty, clamped onto one of her kicking legs, shoving it back down with such force she could feel the tearing in her thigh.

She screamed at the fire burning in her leg, immediately stopping her other one from its assault, before he had a reason to damage that one as well. She lie terribly still, afraid of his strength.

Never before in her 18 years on this earth had she ever felt fear at a man's physical power. She'd never had a reason to before. No one would touch her like that, and if they did she had loads of friends and family who would be more than happy to take a swing at them, to defend her.

Now though… now she had no one.

The man leaned back away from her on his knees, and she swore that he was almost as tall as she was while standing, to peer down at her. His eyes were blue, striking in contrast to the shadows cast by the mask he wore. Red streaked the bone white of the mask, looking as if someone had tried to slap him with bloody fingers. The thighs that straddled her were thick, as big around as three of hers. His shirt hid nothing, even in the dim light of the tunnels she could make out the sheer power of his physique. He was monstrous. Absolutely and utterly devastating.

He was like a dark, wrathful god.

No- not a god.

The _devil_.

He glared down at her daring her to try it again, to resist him. Not knowing what else to do she shrank back away from him, from that gaze of icy fire. She wanted to cry. She wanted to be back home, with her parents, with her cats, with her big brother Justin.

She could still glimpse back as she was running blindly into the camp, the prone form of her brother that had been propelled into the van. The whole side of his face had been torn clean off, the top of his skull concave, the hunting knife protruding from his chest.

She gagged at the memory.

 _I would take it all back_. The trip, the constant begging, the late night phone calls, the last minute plans- she would give it all back, if it meant her brother and friends could still be alive.

 _And Marc…_ God- Marc was dead.

" _Don't worry, Buggy Babe. We'll be just fine" he grabbed her hand, pulling it to his lips and planting an obnoxiously wet kiss right smack dab in the middle of her palm._

" _You're a dick, Marc!" she swore he was the only man who could make her giggle like that._

She tried to recall a time where it was Marc's hands caressing her, the many nights in these past four years that he would take his time and cherish her body. Marc was never rushed when they had sex. He made sure she was comfortable from beginning to end. That boy's loving was sweet, naughty, and he always made sure she was thoroughly satisfied.

 _She loved the way he would lift her leg, right in the middle of it all when he was thrusting deep inside her. He would look her in the eye and lightly kiss and lick the inside of her knee, mouth curling with sly amusement when her body gave in and she lost herself in orgasm. That smile getting her every time._

But these hands weren't his, they were unfamiliar. Too big, too warm, too _much_. They fumbled with her clothes, or tugged too hard at her limbs. They pinched and gripped in a way she once remembered. A long time ago in a galaxy far far away… She recalled that they had once been her hands.

They were virgin hands.

 _It was her first time. Marc tried to help with the nervousness that clawed at her stomach. He didn't want to pressure her, he said. But she wanted to do this with him, she wanted it to be him. So he reclined her back, kissing at her neck in that way that made her toes curl. Her hands tried to do something, she wasn't sure why this was suddenly so hard. She would grasp and run her fingers through his hair when they made out all the time. Now though… Now she truly felt lost._

" _Just hold on Buggy. Hold onto me and don't let go"_

She sucked in a sharp breath when the monster's fingers brushed against her chest. His gaze was lost, unsure. It was almost like he had seen this many times, but had never done it himself. It showed in the way he would touch all the right places, but he lacked any confidence. It was... pure- which made her balk at her own thoughts, but yes that was it. He didn't touch her like Marc, with skilled, cool practice, he touched her like she had done to her first time boyfriend that night four years ago. She wasn't sure how that made her feel. She wasn't sure she was capable of truly feeling anything other than that throat-choking fear that hadn't gone away.

 _Had he watched Rusty and Natalie?_

Now that had been a pair she didn't really care for, but Justin and Rusty had been friends since middle school so she put up with him. He was always loud and a bit of a junkie, and when he started dating Natalie he began to take narcotics that she stole from her father- who suffered from everything under the sun. Thankfully her brother never encouraged or got caught up in his friend's habits, only making it a point to tell her every time she'd bring it up that Rusty wasn't a bad guy.

" _He's got issues, everyone fucking does. That's how he chooses to deal with them" he never looked her in the eye when he said it. Justin wasn't stupid, and he knew that what his friend did was incredibly wrong. He always had his back though. Her brother was the kind of man that would defend to the death-_

A sob escaped, whooshed out before she could clamp her lips down and suck it back in. Jason swung his gaze from where it had been watching her heaving chest to look at her face. She stared back at him, those bright eyes held something she couldn't quite place but she gulped when they narrowed at her.

Then, the monster stood. Her body shivered at how smooth the movement was, how quick. He was as graceful as a cat, rolling onto the balls of his feet and standing all within a mere second. His footsteps were almost nothing as he stalked away into the blackness.

She laid there, staring at the place he was and feeling the first tendrils of cold slither around her form. She listened for him, straining her ears for a sign, but heard nothing sans the occasional drip of water. She almost giggled.

"What the actual fuck…" she whispered.

She was down under the earth, hundreds of miles from home and the only survivor of a homicidal campfire story. And finally, there was quiet.

For a while she just laid back, staring at the ceiling with blank eyes. Her muscles, aching with fatigue, began to unwind and relax back into the dirt. Her hands came to latch on to her underwear, the only piece of clothing he had yet to remove. They were soiled, dirty. She sighed, her brain noticing he had somehow untied her hands before he vanished into the dark. When had he done that?

She tried to make herself comfortable.

She tried to fall asleep.

But she couldn't do either.

The tears finally fell. She clutched at her aching head, curling into a ball, trying to ignore the sound of the chain as it slid along the floor.

"What in the actual _fuck_."

….

Author's note: Trying my hand at a Jason/OC fic. Tell me what you think, and if you'd even like me to continue.

IiR


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: A Grand Adventure

Warnings: brief language

….

She had been wide awake for hours, listening to the sounds of the early morning. Justin wouldn't be up for a while yet, and everyone else would probably sleep longer. She couldn't, not today.

Today was the start of an adventure.

They'd been planning this for months, years if you counted the off-handed comments of taking " _a big trip, just the four of them"_ way back in high school. Now though, it wasn't just the four of them. She was bringing Marc, Rusty was bringing his latest drug whore Natalie, and Amanda had invited her boyfriend Blake and his sister Crystal. She'd known Amanda since before elementary, their mom's had been friends and wanted their daughters to get along so they'd have an excuse to drink wine and gossip during playdates. They would play dolls or try to braid each other's hair, and all the while she could hear her mother's sly voice coming from the kitchen.

" _Realllllly? She knows he's watching her every move! The whore's already been caught cheating before"_

" _See, you'd think that wouldn't you Loretta? But I don't really think she cares about Greg anymore"_

" _But her children? If nothing else she should be thinking about her children! I don't care how good the dick is, if you have kids their needs are above your own, surely the twat knows this"_

She smiled at the memory, also recalling Marc, her boyfriend of four years, had never cared much for her mother. She could definitely see why. The woman craved gossip, bathed in it, the more depraved and debauched the better. She used each piece of information like bullets in a gun. That would also be the reason why most of the _town_ didn't like her mother.

She finally decided to actually get up and not just lay in bed. She still had some last minute packing to do, and then maybe she'd call Marc to see if he was awake. The man was an early riser usually, that was when he used to do all of his homework back in high school or he'd spend time tinkering in the garage whether it be weight lifting or shining up his car. He was always busy with something.

She was amazed he actually realized her existence junior year. She was sure that boy would grow up to be some movie star and date models for the rest of his life. Then one day out of the blue, it seemed, he asked her to the first homecoming dance of the year. They'd been inseparable ever since.

She loved Marc, had loved him for what seemed like a long time. He was funny, caring, and though the man had his faults she was willing to let him by with the occasional pity party, or the loud banging that symbolized him throwing tools out in the garage to quell his anger. Marc was a prideful man, though he didn't let it show often, and when you hurt his pride he would either burst into angry flames or sulk in a corner for hours.

" _Get over it, Marc"_

" _No! That fucker he- you know what nevermind, you just don't fucking get it"_

 _She grinned, "Oh I get it, he pulled out his metaphorical dick and pissed on your shoes. Get over it Marc, it's not the first time Trevor Ferguson has showed you up and it won't be the last. The dude just doesn't like you"_

" _I thought you had my back, you're_ my _girlfriend so you side with_ me"

" _Not if being on your side means I have to listen to you mope about this supposed 'injustice' for five years"_

Being the first one up meant shower privileges- hot water, zero wait time, and no rush. She took her time and braided her long hair, the brown strands thick and heavy with the water. No makeup today, not for the woods. She'd bring her cosmetic bag but she doubted she would use it. Maybe on a night out though they'd hit up the small town that surrounded the campsite and find a nice place to eat.

Once she was _officially_ ready, packed, and dressed she found her phone and called Marc. Justin had finally crawled out of his room and was shoving suitcases into the van. As usual the boy looked like he just rolled out of bed and wandered downstairs to shove his shit and go. She rolled her eyes.

The line was picked up on the fifth ring. "Hey Babe, you ready to go?"

A sleepy, deep rumble greeted her ears, " _Mmmm… maybe in ten? I just got up like five minutes ago, had a long night"_

She glowered into the phone "Get your ass in gear, Marc. We'll be over in about twenty minutes."

" _Aw, that's plenty of time Sugar Bug. See you in a few"_

"Love you" she wished for a brief moment that she could have 'slammed' the phone on him. Marc was the biggest procrastinator she knew, and it drove her stark raving mad. Her anxiety went off the charts when they'd be paired up for an assignment and he'd manage to do ALL of it the _morning_ _before_ class.

Her heart rate skyrocketed just thinking about it.

"Bastard," she muttered.

She came out in time to see Justin slam the back doors. He turned and threw a sheepish grin at her. "Ready, little sis?"

"Aye, aye" she replied, and climbed into the front passenger's side seat.

It took twenty minutes on the dot to reach Marc's place. He was sitting out on the porch, a rather large suitcase propped up beside him. They had to pack enough for a week out in the middle of a campsite. They weren't even totally sure the place had running water. It was a place she herself picked out, at the request of everyone else. They wanted something secluded, and a bit out of their comfort zone but not so far away into the wilderness they all died of a rabid bear attack. Just somewhere with no rules, no parents, and zero responsibilities.

" _Here's a good one, Camp Crystal Lake in New Jersey. That's not too far… It does say there's bears though. What do you think?"_

" _Simple solution Buggy Bean, just trip Rusty's whore and book it"_

She waved at her boyfriend to hurry the hell up and get in. He was a tall man, in his early twenties with dark hair. She'd known him to be quite the gym rat but that had waned a bit since he graduated, and he had just the slightest bit of pudge on his stomach, probably from all the drinking. She thought it was cute, and she liked his figure just a bit softer. Granted, she liked his body when he was pure muscle and could carry her around with one arm, but she liked his ever growing 'dad bod' as Amanda liked to call it. He greeted her with a kiss through the window, weaving his fingers into her hair rather unsuccessfully due to the braid.

"OW! Ya big dick, let go!" She tried to pry his hand off.

He winced, "Why did you put it up? I like it down. Now I'm stuck to your head." He gave that easy smile, his eyes twinkling with that mischief she secretly adored.

"Shut up and let me detach you!" She growled and carefully maneuvered his fingers out of her weaved death trap. Now she'd have to redo it.

"Good going. Now she'll be pissy the rest of the trip." Her brother chimed in, a large grin eating his face. She reached across and jabbed him in the ribs, something she knew her brother hated.

After Marc shoved his suitcase in the back, he seated himself and they were ready to depart. The plan was to meet the others at a family restaurant a few miles from the campsite. They all thought it would be best to drive separately, so they had more room to bring what they wanted. She wasn't all too sure who was driving with who, but she did know the only person who Rusty allowed in his camaro was the person he was fucking. Not even Justin was allowed to step foot near the obnoxious, grey monstrosity.

Though, despite all the excitement and happiness that swam around in her gut, there was something nagging on the back of her mind. The website for the camp made mention of the frequent bear attacks that went on inside the grounds. Many people were either missing or found dead, mauled and half eaten by the time anyone stumbled across them.

She had once heard a teacher say that you had a 1 in 2 million chance of getting attacked by a bear, that you were more likely, in fact, to drown then actually getting mauled while out in the wilderness. She wasn't sure how true this was, but to say that close to sixty people had been killed by bears all within the same area? For some reason that didn't sound right.

She turned to the boys, her voice small "Hey, did we bring anything for- ya know, the bears?"

Justin shrugged, not noticing her sudden drop in mood. "Thought I heard Rusty saying he was bringing his dad's shotgun. But I'm not a hundred percent on that one. I think he only said he'd bring it because his whore wouldn't stop whining about rapists and murderers"

She felt a warm hand engulf her shoulder as her boyfriend gave a gentle squeeze, "No worries, I have my hunting knife. Plus, there's what, eight of us?" He pulled playfully at her braid, "Don't worry, Buggy Babe. The only thing we'll have to fear that far out are your eating habits. God help the peanut butter and carrots."

….

Author's note: Please read and review! I wanna know what you guy's think so far!

To my guest reviewer: thank you so so much! Your review wasn't bad at all! I'm glad my story was good enough for you to drop in and tell me what you thought. Hopefully you'll stay with me for a remainder of this smutty ride ;)

IiR


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Game Is On

Warnings: Language, sexual content

….

The diner was the small, typical, family-owned establishment one often pictured. It was dim, with a friendly atmosphere and a single waitress who managed everything but the cooking. She gave them a big smile when they shuffled in, but did a double take at Natasha.

Her and Marc decided to take a booth away from the others, wanting a bit of space. Besides their rather large party, there was only one other customer in the place. He looked to be an older gentleman in his early sixties, a thick pearly white mustache stretched across his face.

Marc must have been impressed with this, "I envy him, dude's probably got bigger balls than both me and your brother combined."

"That's… You're gross," she made a face, sliding down into the booth with red cheeks. She wouldn't ever be able to make eye contact with any man with a mustache from now until she died.

"Tis' true though," he wiggled his brows. "Maybe I'll grow one, make my balls worthy of being called a man?"

The smile finally broke free, and her arm extended to try and smack his cheek from across the table. He backed up, eyes wide before a grin appeared. He loved this side of her, the one where she would forget her age for a small moment and lash out childishly. She didn't do it often enough- but maybe that's what made it all the more sweeter. To watch this tiny woman try to attack with a bubbly smile fighting through the seriousness she wore like a mask.

"Hey, hey, hey now kiddies. What do we think we're doing over here?" Her brother suddenly plopped down beside her with his hands raised high in surrender. "Looks like a bunch of horseplay to me, how about we act our age."

"Go away, we're busy," she huffed.

"You'll get us kicked out with all this rambunctiousness."

She stuck out her tongue, "Marc started it, he was being a twat."

"When is he not though?"

Marc rolled his eyes, "Why are you even over here, go back and babysit the heathens before they either set something on fire, or Rusty starts banging Natasha on the table."

Her brother grinned, "You act like that's _all_ they're capable of in just five minutes. Remember that bar in Southend?"

She looked back to the other side of the diner, out of sheer curiosity, and saw the two girls giggling hysterically while Rusty wore a dopey grin . He was a pretty funny guy, when he wasn't drunk or angry. Natasha was leaning back into his chest, her red nails were casually playing with the zipper track on his jacket. She had a faraway look, like she wasn't even there. Rusty had an arm around her waist, which disappeared down beneath the table. No doubt his hand was somewhere it shouldn't be. Blake had wandered over to the bar, and had already downed half a pint of beer. His girlfriend, Amanda, despite looking like she was into whatever story Rusty was recounting, had her eyes glued to Blake. She knew it was because Amanda hated it when Blake had one too many and picked a fight with anything that suddenly offended him, usually that included men who could kick his ass.

She smiled.

They weren't good people, any of them, but she could always count on them to be around. Some of them were better than others, but they were the only friends she had. They had always been in her life, most she knew from childhood, and she often wondered if they would ever really leave each other or if they would all be sent to the same nursing home.

"What'll it be?"

She glanced up in slight surprise at the woman who suddenly loomed over the table. She had thick hair tied back in a tight bun, eyes glued to the notebook in front of her. A waitress. Couldn't have been more than thirty years old, with the gentlest of laugh lines resting at the corner of each eye.

"We'll all do your country breakfast, Ma'am" Marc said as he gathered up their menus and gave them over to a well-manicured hand. She noticed the disgusted glance the lady shot their other table as Rusty let out a loud belch.

She smiled to herself.

"Do you happen to know what they want?" The waitress asked, dry and unimpressed.

"You wish we did, Ma'am, but I'm afraid you'll have to ask them yourself. Trust me when I say they won't like me speaking for them." Marc winked, giving up an easy smile to try and lighten the ever dropping mood of the older woman.

The waitress said nothing, turning abruptly, and marched her way over to the others. Poor thing was about to walk right into a warzone, and didn't even know it.

She turned back to look at Marc who was grinning at her.

She shared in his mirth, grinning back.

….

She wasn't sure what made her open her eyes until the tremors made her teeth chatter in the silence. It was so unbearably loud that she had to clamp her hands over her mouth. She didn't want him to hear her. She didn't want him to know she was awake. Not yet.

It was freezing in the cavern, she guessed it was underground somewhere. Probably not far from the campsite she had been taken from. Though, she didn't doubt the man who'd brought her here could probably have carried her much farther than the Average Joe. The behemoth was anything but average.

She needed to get out. That was something she knew for a fact. Who knew how long she had until tall, dark, and menacing decided she was too much trouble and sliced her in half with that wicked blade of his. From what she remembered, he knew exactly how to wield it to cause as much damage as humanly possible.

 _Marc's eyes were glassy, unseeing as her mind tried to piece together… the pieces of him that were scattered about the grass. He looked like a human puzzle that someone got bored with trying to put together and he laid discarded in his many parts. His arm was by her feet, his chest carved open with various carnage trying to seep out-_

She flew to her knees, and tried her damndest not to heave. She'd already thrown up everything she had. She didn't have anymore to give at this point, and she knew all it would accomplish was to alert the monster possibly lurking nearby, looking for an excuse to off her. She needed to calm down.

 _Get a fucking grip._

She eyed the thick band of metal around her ankle, wincing at the lack of rust or damage. It looked new. Fuck.

Her attention then spanned to the post. Large, thick, but made of wood. Promising, she tried to push down the doubt and realism that clawed at her guts. Maybe she could break it somehow? It attached to the ceiling, running all the way up, so there was no up n' over for her, she'd have to break it.

 _Or maybe…_

There had to be a key, either he carried it on him or it was somewhere in this room.

She didn't want to think about the possibility that it wasn't.

She couldn't.

Sanity was the crown in this game.

And she had no intentions of losing.

….

They arrived at the campsite far after the sun went down, so setting up a proper fire and all the essentials was not only unnerving, but incredibly difficult. The ladies turned out to be of little help, and nervous giggles could be heard through the dead night as the men stumbled about and swore obnoxiously.

"This is fucking retarded!" Rusty, not even halfway sober, spat aggressively as he nearly tripped over a root and into the fire pit they'd cleared out. The whore snorted, all the way drunk, swaying in her spot on a wooden bench. Amanda and Crystal had decided to become useful and started collecting dried twigs to start a flame. While Justin and Blake got stuck with searching and chopping large logs. Everyone was cold, everyone was tired, and they all wanted to settle down by some warmth and drink the night away.

She and Marc had gathered their supplies and set up in a cabin further off from the others, closer to the lake, and listened to the commotion outside the door. She was laughing, tugging at her man's shirt with small hands. His were much larger, and so warm as they came up to cover hers in the dark, encouraging her bold behavior that rarely surfaced. It didn't need to, she was happy when Marc took the lead. She was willing under his influence, always, and he finely tuned her body to dance as he wished. But tonight she wanted to be the one, and it was her turn to tug the strings. She was feeling a rush of power, dizzying and liberating as the shirt came off and tossed somewhere into the darkness. Hands fell flat and melted into hard muscle and she sharply inhaled as hard nipples greeted her fingers. She could hear his excitement in the rugged breaths that fanned down on her face, it smelled faintly of the citrus gum he chewed. He growled deep as she pinched a bud all the while raking pink nails down his skin. Marc liked getting his nipples played with, though he'd never admit it out loud, not even to her. She learned that trick about a year after their first time, she'd roughly scratched one by mistake in a buzzed fumble and she'd never heard the man moan so loud. Right after he bodily grabbed her and thrusted her against a wall and fucked her so hard she walked funny for three days after.

Rough lips grabbed hers and she knew by the coiling in his arms that tried to remain steady on her hips that he was restraining himself from doing just what she had remembered all those years ago. In a brief moment of humor she wondered if these ancient cabin walls could hold up with her being slammed against them.

 _Probably not…_

She broke away from the kiss and began sucking her way down his chest, taking her time and making sure to nibble and mark her territory as she felt herself falling onto her knees. She was just about to pull on the zipper of his jeans when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she froze. Her hands, resting on the fabric that covered the noticeable bulge waiting to be revealed. For a second her lungs seized and her eyes widened in the blackness, trying to find the cause of her unease.

Above her, she could hear Marc's breathing also calm into nothing and his concerned whisper broke her frightened trance.

"Hey, Buggy Bean? You okay sweetheart?"

They both jumped out of their skin when the door suddenly slammed open, moonlight streaming in to illuminate their compromising forms. Hoots and whistles streamed through the cabin as Rusty, Blake, and Amanda came barreling in.

"Wha 'ave we hereeee?" Rusty wheezed with a stupid grin.

Marc stepped in front of her form, and yelled at the trio to get the fuck out as she scrambled to find his shirt. Her nerves were also yelling, wondering what the hell was happening. She managed to snag the shirt and with trembling hands gave it over to her fuming boyfriend. Marc was puffed up and grunting with heavy breaths, clearly not only still extremely aroused but also startled and highly irritated. He was muttering curses and struggling to piece himself back together before spinning on his heel and storming out of the cabin towards the rambunctious laughter outside.

A heavy sigh and she came back into herself, centering, before dragging ass back out to a now lit campfire and her posse gathered in a circle, sans Marc who was trying to drag Rusty out further into the grass, to no doubt try and beat him within an inch of his life. All the while The Whore was screaming at them to stop, before they pushed someone into the fire.

She began to laugh at the stupidity of it all. These idiots were always a riot.

Rusty managed to shove Marc off of him, standing up and snarling at Natasha to "get the fuck up, we're going somewhere quiet" and both of them stumbled off into the dark woods, their footsteps echoing with the snapping of branches as they disappeared from sight.

"That a smart idea?" Blake asked, now settled with an arm around Amanda who had morphed into his side.

Justin snorted, "They'll be fine, Rusty's stupid but he ain't dumb."

"I think Blake was referring to the 'warning' we got at the diner" Amanda chimed in, wiggling her fingers like a cartoon witch. "What if we never see them again!"

"Oh shut the fuck up, Amanda. They'll be fine, we're all right here, if something does happen there's six of us" Crystal took another swig of whatever the hell she'd put in her cup.

She stood back and watched, thinking back to the rather ominous encounter Amanda was referring to.

" _Don't go up there"_

" _People don't come back"_

They all figured they were fine with the numbers, and as long as no one was stupid enough to wander too far alone at night all heads would stay on the correct shoulders. They didn't believe in ghost stories or urban legends, and while she could appreciate the concern from the old and delusional she wasn't going to give up her good time because some people decided to be stupid in the middle of the woods. People don't come back from places that they're unprepared for. A bear, an old hunting trap, or a bad step could end up costing you your life out in the wilderness. That's why you never went alone, and if you did, you never left without protection or a way to call for help. A lot of young people her age went missing due to the fact that they go out to party in the woods with people they can't often trust. That and they have a tendency to treat nature like it's their own backyard. A fatal mistake.

Her eyes scanned the group, her little pack of assholes, with a sense of pride. She gave a small smile, enjoying the heat from the fire, and her gaze locking with Marc's. He had settled by Blake and was drinking whatever concoction was in the cup Crystal handed over to him.

Yup, they'd be just fine.

….

It was late. She wasn't sure how late, but when someone finally pieced together the fact Rusty and Natasha had yet to return she was sure it was well past 3 am.

"Hey, where's Rusty?"

"Fucking doesn't take this long, so what the fuck?"

"Maybe they fell asleep?"

"In the middle of the woods?"

"Or maybe they're in a cabin and we just didn't hear them?"

"Someone go check."

"I'm _not_ going alone."

"Fucking relax, I'll go with you."

"I'll come too!"

From there, it all happened too fast. There was no time to think, and by the end she realized there was nothing anyone could have done to change what happend. They were fucked the moment they stepped foot on that land. They had wandered right into Satan's playground with no cross, no bible, and no priest.

By the time she saw what had obliterated her life, she was the last one standing. The thing- a giant of a man, she realized, was standing not more than twenty feet behind her. She never heard him approach, but her neck hairs raised and a burning instinct made her eyes peel from the carnage that used to be the love of her life and she turned around to face a bone white face atop a mountain. He almost stood casually, the gleam off a large knife an afterthought because it hung loosely in a massive hand. He wore dark clothes, heavy boots, and everything about him was too strange and otherworldly to fully comprehend much more than the basics.

She could only stand there. Even as the man moved forward she could only whimper and sink lower into the earth, rooted deep. She knew there was no running, no hiding, from this thing. He would catch her. The heavy feeling of despair clawed at her rapidly beating heart, and tears let loose in a heavy flow down her cheeks. His visage grew blurry, and yet all the while growing until he was all she could comprehend. The smell of soil and rain hit her in a cloud, along with the scent of pine and musk. He was too much. Everything about him was too overwhelming and she had to close her eyes tight. Her mind whispering comfort in the only way it knew how- " _it's not real, it's not happening, just wake up"_

" _Just wake up"_

" _Wake up"_

Her eyes opened.

….

AN: hey, what up! So yeah, my lazy ass finally decided to start writing again. I've been going through a lot as of late, but I finally found some time to sit down and have some time to myself. I hope you guys enjoyed this, I know it's short, but I knew I had to post something. Good news is, we're getting to the Jason/OC sexy times next chapter, so look forward to that!

Till next time

IiR


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